Collection of essays relating to Knox's work translating the Old and New Testaments.
Contents: 1. Thoughts on Bible Translation 2. Some New Testament Problems 3. Justice and Scandal in the Gospels 4. Challoner and the Douay Version 5. Some Reasons Why 6. Nine Years' Hard 7. Morsu Amarissimo 8. Farewell to Machabees
Monsignor Ronald Arbuthnott Knox was a Roman Catholic priest, theologian, author of detective stories, as well as a writer and a regular broadcaster for BBC Radio.
Knox had attended Eton College and won several scholarships at Balliol College, Oxford. He was ordained an Anglican priest in 1912 and was appointed chaplain of Trinity College, Oxford, but he left in 1917 upon his conversion to Catholicism. In 1918 he was ordained a Catholic priest. Knox wrote many books of essays and novels. Directed by his religious superiors, he re-translated the Latin Vulgate Bible into English, using Hebrew and Greek sources, beginning in 1936.
He died on 24 August 1957 and his body was brought to Westminster Cathedral. Bishop Craven celebrated the requiem mass, at which Father Martin D'Arcy, a Jesuit, preached the panegyric. Knox was buried in the churchyard of St Andrew's Church, Mells.
Language Matters - Englishing the Bible by Ronald Arbuthnot Knox Peter S Bradley Sep 17, 2026 Language Matters - Englishing the Bible by Ronald Arbuthnot Knox
Ronald Arbuthnot Knox’s Englishing the Bible is a highly enjoyable collection of essays on the art, challenges, and philosophy of Bible translation. Although its audience is likely limited to readers interested in biblical studies, language, or translation theory, those in that circle will find it richly rewarding.
Knox, an Oxford scholar, friend of C. S. Lewis, and translator of the Latin Vulgate into what became known as the Knox Bible, spent nearly a decade wrestling with how to render Scripture into contemporary English. In these essays, he reflects on both the process and the reception of his translation, while also responding to his critics and defending his underlying philosophy.
The book’s greatest strength is Knox’s honesty about the uncertainties inherent in translation. He repeatedly emphasizes that words are not interchangeable tokens that move neatly from one language to another. Every word carries shades of meaning, connotations, and historical associations that rarely align perfectly across languages. Consequently, translators are forced to make innumerable judgment calls. Knox explores the tension between a literal translation and conveying the sense of a text. A strictly word-for-word rendering may preserve formal correspondence while producing awkward or unintelligible prose. On the other hand, a freer translation risks drifting from translation into interpretation. Knox never pretends that this tension can be eliminated; instead, he illuminates the difficult choices every translator must make.
His own solution was straightforward: he wanted to create a Bible that ordinary English readers of his day would actually want to read. Rather than striving for an artificial timelessness, Knox aimed for the language spoken by educated English speakers in the mid-twentieth century. He argued that the so-called “timeless” quality of older translations often stems from historical familiarity. Texts become authoritative because generations absorb them into culture, not because their language has inherent permanence.
Many of the essays address criticism directed at the Knox Bible. One recurring complaint was that Knox’s language lacked the grandeur and permanence associated with traditional biblical English. His response is both thoughtful and persuasive. Readers often mistake familiarity for authority, he suggests, and may value archaic expressions simply because they have heard them repeated for generations. Knox’s goal was different: he wanted Scripture to speak clearly to contemporary readers rather than preserving verbal forms that had become increasingly opaque.
The book is also notable for its historical insights. Knox highlights the longstanding efforts of popes, bishops, and councils to encourage Bible reading among Catholics, challenging the common assumption that such encouragement emerged only after the Second Vatican Council. His reflections on Catholic biblical literacy, written in the 1940s, remain surprisingly relevant today. Knox observes in 1945 that Catholics had been exhorted to read the bible for what was then a long time. In 2026, Catholics are still being exhorted to read the bible. Are they?
Knox offers this perspective on the bible-reading habits of his day:
And yet is the Douay, as it has come down to us through Challoner, really so familiar to us, so universally beloved? I understand that for several years, during and after the war, it was impossible in England or Scotland for a Catholic to buy a copy of the New Testament. Would any other Christian denomination in the world have sat down under that? In my experience, the laity’s attitude toward the Bible is one of blank indifference, varied now and again by one of puzzled hostility. The clergy, no doubt, search the scriptures more eagerly. And yet when I used to go around preaching a good deal, and would ask the P.P. for a bible to verify my text from, there was generally an ominous pause of twenty minutes or so before he returned, banging the leaves of the sacred volume and visibly blowing on the top. The new wine of the gospel, you felt, was kept in strangely cobwebby bottles.
Perhaps the most delightful aspect of Englishing the Bible is Knox’s prose itself. He writes with remarkable wit, elegance, and learning. Discussing translation, he observes:
“Words are not coins, dead things whose value can be mathematically computed. You cannot quote an exact English equivalent for a French word, as you might quote an exact English equivalent for a French coin. Words are living things, full of shades of meaning, full of associations.”
The sentence exemplifies Knox at his best: lucid, memorable, and intellectually engaging.
The book also showcases Knox’s extraordinary erudition. Casual references send readers down unexpected avenues of discovery. One learns about Bishop Richard Challoner, the eighteenth-century Catholic bishop whose revision of the Douay-Rheims Bible shaped English Catholic biblical life for generations. Elsewhere (p. 17) Knox alludes to obscure literary quotations, forgotten idioms, and theological curiosities such as the symbolic significance attributed to Tobias’s dog in medieval interpretation.[1] Reading the book often feels like accompanying a brilliant conversationalist whose learning continually opens new doors.
Equally appealing is Knox’s refusal to romanticize biblical interpretation. His observations on the difficulties of reading the prophets are especially refreshing. Rather than pretending that texts such as Isaiah are immediately transparent, he candidly acknowledges the challenges modern readers face without the historical context available to the original audience. (p. 90):
And then the prophets! Practically a quarter of the Old Testament, and yet apart from Daniel and Jonas, hardly a chapter you can read with your feet on the fender,[2] Here, there is no question of logical sequence of thought, carefully worked out; the spirit blows where he will, not abiding our question. Yet beware of holding in defiance of Saint Jerome himself, that the prophet spoke in ecstasy. You are haeresi proximus.[3] That way lies Montanism. Evidently the prophets - even Zacharius - expected their contemporaries to understand what they were talking about.
His discussions of textual criticism and competing manuscript traditions likewise reveal a scholar unafraid to admit ambiguity where ambiguity genuinely exists.
For some, a weakness of Knox’s book might be its erudition: it is filled with cultural references, vocabulary, and literary allusions that require modern readers to search out. Yet this is part of the book's charm.[4] The reader is constantly learning, not only about biblical translation but also about English literature, history, and language.
Ultimately, Englishing the Bible succeeds on multiple levels. It is a thoughtful meditation on translation, an engaging defense of clear biblical English, a minor treasure-house of historical and literary learning, and a showcase for Knox’s wit and style. Most importantly, it deepens appreciation for the complexity of translating Scripture and the humility required of anyone who undertakes the task.
Short, learned, and consistently entertaining, Englishing the Bible is highly recommended for readers interested in language, translation, theology, or the history of the Bible in English. Even those who do not share Knox’s particular views will find themselves enriched by his intelligence, candor, and literary grace.
Footnotes:
[1] Tobit 11:9 reads: “9 Then the dog, which had been with them in the way, ran before, and coming as if he had brought the news, shewed his joy by his fawning and wagging his tail.” The footnote to 11:9 reads: “[9] “The dog”: This may seem a very minute circumstance to be recorded in sacred history: but as we learn from our Saviour, [Matt 5:18], there are iotas and tittles in the word of God: that is to say, things that appear minute, but which have indeed a deep and mysterious meaning in them.” It turns out that there is an entire interpretive tradition that concerns Tobias’s dog. St. Ambrose wrote: “What shall I say about dogs, who have a natural instinct to show gratitude and to serve as watchful guardians of their masters’ safety? Therefore Scripture cries out to the ungrateful, the slothful and the craven, telling them that they are “dumb dogs, not able to bark.” To dogs, therefore, is given the ability to bark in defense of their masters and their homes. Thus you should learn to use your voice for the sake of Christ, when ravening wolves attack his sheepfold. Have the word ready on your lips, lest, like a silent watchdog, you may appear because of your unfaithfulness to abandon the post entrusted to you. Such a dog was the friend and companion of an angel. Not without reason did Raphael in the prophetic book cause this dog to accompany the son of Tobias when he went on a journey, in order to drive out Asmodeus and thereby confirm the marriage. The demon is driven out as the result of a grateful recognition, and the union is stabilized. And so, under the symbolism of a dumb animal, the angel Raphael, as director of the young man Tobias whom he had agreed to protect, was able to arouse sentiments of gratitude in him.”
[2] This is another delightful mid-twentieth century expression lost to us. “Feet on the fender” comes from an 1851 poem of Cornelius Laws: “little feet on the fenders” of a boat, lolling as the boat slowly floats on a lake. The image captures a quiet domestic moment.
[3] Next heresy.
[4] Another image Knox preserves describes himself as a “shy-cock’ for “coconuts.” This is a deeply mysterious term, until you understand the tradition of throwing coconuts at targets – shy-cocks – at church social. A “shy-cock” is a target for mockery. I have yet to decipher what Knox meant by “Kelly’s Keys.”
Not a book about Christianity, but about the issues and difficulties of translating the Bible into English. Some sections were difficult to follow, but it was very clean in showing how tricky it is to translate the bible into a form an Englishman himself would have said it. It's not as cut and dried as I previously thought.
This short collection of eight essays by Fr. Knox give excellent insights into the problems of translations in general, and of English translations of the Holy Bible in particular. He presents the rationale and principles behind his own choice of renditions in the Knox version of the Bible from the Vulgate, and whets the reader's appetite for a taste of his translation.
These essays about Knox translating the Bible are extremely interesting, but since they were given at different times in a different context, there’s a lot of repetition here. He uses the same examples over and over again, which makes for rather tedious reading at one go.
Knox is transparent with his approach to translating the Latin Vulgate (at that time, pun intended, the Vulgate was the only authorised edition for use for the Latin Church). Whilst some of his choices in translating the Bible are not my cup of tea, I can agree with some of his reasons as to why he translated the way he did.
Who could have thought essays on translating the Bible could be so funny? Originally published in 1949, this collection takes us through Knox's 9 year effort to create a Bible that the average English speaker could read through in narrative form, with an utter dedication to translating the Vulgate to reveal the intended meanings instead of dressing other languages in English clothes. If you can make it through the sometimes over-the-head academic writing (certain sections assume the audience knows both Latin and French, for example), there are fascinating tidbits about the art of translation, critical responses, mistranslations that have made their way into common vernacular, and the spirit of pursuing the Word of God - all with Knox's sharp wit interspersed throughout. I literally laughed out loud in certain parts. An absolute gem of a read!